


Unrequited | Roommate AU | #Ems21st

by spiderquy



Category: Tom Holland (Actor) - Fandom, tom holland - Fandom
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Heavy Angst, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 03:30:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17052278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiderquy/pseuds/spiderquy
Summary: You fell in love with your best friend and roommate, but when he finds out, everything changes.





	Unrequited | Roommate AU | #Ems21st

**Author's Note:**

> This is my piece for spxderbarnes' 21st birthday celebration (on Tumblr).

It started as a friendship, just like any other relationship you’d ever encountered. You met him on a school trip to Paris, your school and his linked by the federations they were run by, and so both schools tripped together to save money. An all-girls school and an all-boys school roaming the streets of Paris mid-July of year 11, your leavers trip.

Yourself and your best friend of the time, Demi, were eager to see the sights of Paris, though the rule of the trip was to always travel in groups of no less than five, three of which must have a phone with them.

He had overheard you and Demi asking a bunch of your friends, sighing when they all said they’d already made plans to take to the shops. He patted his friend on the chest, explaining what he’d saw and before you knew it, the two young men wandered over and offered to join your group.

They both claimed they wanted to see the sights, too, but Demi had a sneaky suspicion they just wanted to talk to girls, what with being in an all boys school and all. And it was true. He wanted to talk to girls, and you wanted to talk to boys.

Through the week trip, you both became close friends, even going as far as setting Demi up with his best mate. They went on a date to a little cafe while in Paris, but decided they were better as friends. The only difference was, they didn’t stay in contact. Not like you and Tom.

Six years later, you were knocking on his door at three in the morning, packed bags by your feet and mascara running down your swollen cheeks with a broken heart. You weren’t sure why you showed up at his place, probably too ashamed to run to your parents.

He was a doctor, an amazing one at that, and something your parents always wanted you to marry. But do they really expect you to marry a man that cheated on you? And with your boss, of all people. The same boss that he assured you was just jealous of you and your beauty.

The door swung open and revealed a half asleep Tom, sweats low on his bare and toned torso, luscious brown curls a mess and Tessa moped behind him as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Y/N? What are you doing here, love? It’s three in the morning,” he yawned, heart dropping when he finally noticed your tears.

You hiccuped, “Joshua… he was cheating on me,” you all but choked out, knees buckling as you fell into his open arms with a heartaching sob. That was a year ago. A full year to the day, that he took you in and offered you his spare bedroom.

You promised you wouldn’t intrude long, a month at the most, but Tom insisted his home was your home, no matter what. Over the year of your co-housing, you learned a lot about yourself.

The first thing being you had a knack for cooking. You didn’t have much choice but to cook while living with Tom, especially after he almost gave you both food poisoning one night.

The second thing you realised, was that you’re stronger than you thought. But with this realisation, came another… you were in love with your best friend.

It started with him coming home from shopping and buying you a tub of your favourite ice cream, just because. Then, it was when he ran you a hot bubble bath with candles and wine after a long day at work.

Little things became bigger things and before you knew it, you were head over heels. This is what made you realise your strength. You managed to put a smile on your face when he came home with a random girl on the weekends, despite your aching heart.

At first, you thought you could handle it, figured you just had a stupid crush and that it’d blow over after a few weeks. But it didn’t. It got worse. You found yourself infatuated with him, imagining it was you and him rather than him and the skanky blonde from the bar.

You wondered how much longer you’d be able to keep going. Keep pretending that seeing him every waking moment wasn’t killing you. You’d considered looking for your own flat. Maybe moving out would help your case, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

You tried to distract yourself with dates and other men, but you couldn’t go through with it. The thought of kissing someone else, of spending your time with someone else made you feel sick.

They weren’t  _Tom._

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you hadn’t realised you begun to cry. It wasn’t until the front door opened and closed that you were brought back to reality and Tom called out your name.

You wiped your eyes and sniffles back any more tears that threatened to spill, smacked a smile on your lips and spun around on the sofa to see him wandering closer to you.

Tom dipped down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, a grin on his lips as he rounded the couch and plopped down next to you. He was about to tell you all about his day when he noticed how unusually watery your eyes were. Then he noticed your flushed cheeks and trembling hands and he knew something wasn’t right.

“You alright, love? What’s going on?” he asked softly, shuffling closer and taking your hands in his. They were warm, soft, and you wondered what it’d be like to have them roaming your body in the darkness of the night.

You shook your head. “Nothing! How was your day?” you threw on your best smile, but Tom knew better. Knew you were hiding something and he wasn’t about to let it go so easily. He quirked a brow and tilted his head, not buying your lies.

“Love, tell me what’s wrong,” he pleaded softly, hands gently squeezing yours in a way to encourage you. You pursed your lips and debated whether or not you really wanted to tell him. “I um… I think I’m in love with someone,” you cleared your throat, heart thumping in your chest.

Tom pulled back with wide eyes and raised brows, shock evident on his face and a hint of a smile tugged on the corners of your lips. “Darling… that’s… that’s amazing,” he breathed out a heartfelt laugh and you felt the shattering of your heart in your chest.

You shook your head frantically, another sob tearing through your throat and Tom couldn’t understand why you were so distraught. “No, Tom, no, it’s not  _amazing!_  I’m in love with someone who doesn’t love me back,” you hiccuped, head in your hands as you sobbed.

Tom pursed his lips with a frown, hand rubbing up and down your back in a soothing manner as he tried to coax you to calmness. “You don’t know that, darling. Any man or woman would be lucky to have you,” he tried to make you feel better, but his words only hurt you deeper.

You shook your head. “I  _know_ for a fact, he doesn’t love me. Not in the way I love him,” you whimpered, his touch uncomfortable for the first time ever. You gently shrugged his hands off you and distanced yourself, curling your legs into your chest and Tom watched your movements closely with knitted brows.

You never pulled away from his touch, especially when you were sad. It was as though something clicked in his mind, remembering all the times you brushed him off, the way you immediately excused yourself to your room whenever he brought a girl home.

At the time, he thought you just didn’t want to be a cockblock, but now? Now, he knew. “Y/N…” he softly spoke, voice full of pity and you shook your head, knowing he didn’t feel the same by the tone of his voice.

“No, don’t… it’s okay,” you cried, swallowing back the lump in your throat and you shook the negativity away. It wasn’t his fault. Wasn’t his fault he didn’t love you, that you weren’t enough for him.

“I… I didn’t,” he stuttered, own tears pooling in his eyes. He felt so bad, so fucking bad, that he didn’t love you the way you loved him. He couldn’t stand to see you so heartbroken, so fucking vulnerable. He couldn’t stand to know that he was the reason for your pain. For your tears.

You shook your head and finally forced yourself to look up at him, forcing a smile on your lips and you shook your head, cupping his pink cheeks in your trembling hands. “It’s okay, Tommy, it’s alright,” you tried to reassure him, to reassure yourself.

But it wasn’t okay. You were broken, completely and utterly broken. That small shred of hope you had was torn away before you could really hold onto it. Tom let his tears fall for you, his heart hurting, but yours was shattered.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” he cried, lips trembling and you let out a watery chuckle that quickly turned into more sobs. The next thing you knew, you were curled into his chest, sobbing into the thin fabric of his shirt, your tears soaking it through.

Neither of you wanted to let go, you didn’t want to lose the warmth of him and he didn’t want you hurting any longer. “I do love you, darling. More than anything,” Tom cried into your hair, smoothing it down and you clutched his shirt with a sad smile.

“I know. Just not the way I wish you did,” you finally admitted out loud, the spoken words only stabbing Tom straight through the heart. He couldn’t take it, not anymore. He couldn’t keep lying to you, but he knew if he told you the truth, you wouldn’t believe him.

And the truth, you ask? Tom was in love with you. Head over heels. But how does he tell his best friend he’s in love with her when he’s about to leave for filming for nine months. How does he commit to her when she deserves someone to hold her every single night until she falls asleep?

He wanted to be there for you, wanted to kiss you in the darkness of the night, to hold you in his arms in bed and ask how your day was. He wanted to hold your hand and twirl you around the kitchen as you made dinner together. He wanted to love you even after his final breath on this stupid planet.

Tom Holland wanted to tell you, but he couldn’t. So, instead, he let you think he didn’t. Let you think he felt nothing for you, more than friendliness. And it was the biggest mistake of his life.

Not long after that night, you moved out of the flat and got your own place. Tom could tell the pain in your eyes when you took your final box and took one last place at your old home. He held you while you cried, and he knew you still loved him.

And then, he went away for nine months of filming which quickly turned into a year of minimal to no contact with each other. When he got back home, he and Harrison took to the town, you being the only thing on his mind as they jumped from pub to pub.

He wondered what you’d be doing right now. Were you working late, fallen asleep? Where you in bed reading, or where you in the arms of another. His heart hurt at the thought of the latter, but when he and Harrison stumbled through the doors of The Golden Throne, his entire soul shattered.

There you were, right at the back of the pub, tucked in one of the cosy booths you all used to sit at. Your legs were resting on another man’s legs, his hands on your knees as Tom watched you laugh cheesily at something he said.

You were  _happy_ , carefree, and certainly not aware of his presence. Tom could feel the tears welling at the sight of your happiness, at the fact that he wasn’t part of it, the reason behind it. But, when he caught sight of the shiny diamond band around your finger, the entire world stopped.

Your smile was bright, could put the stars and moon to shame. Your eyes were soft and full of life, skin glowing and hair a silky smooth. You were so fucking happy, and Tom was miserable.

He burst out of the pub, unable to fight back the panic and tears that washed over him like an uncontrollable tsunami. He gripped the railing of the entrance, taking deep breaths as he heard the door of the pub open behind him.

“Tommy?” you questioned breathlessly, could notice that head of brown curls anywhere. He froze at the sound of your soft voice, slowly turning to look at you, not bothering to hide the tears or pain in his eyes.

You rushed over to him, cupping his cheeks in your palms as you looked over him, worried he might be hurt. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?” you asked frantically, searching his eyes in hopes of an answer but he stumbled in your hold and gently held your wrists.

“I lied to you,” he croaked out, breath reeking of alcohol. You frowned at him and shook your head. “Tommy, what are you talking about?” you asked, confusion clear on your face and Tom groaned at your words.

“When I told you I didn’t love you back, I lied,” he cried out, your heart stopping for a moment as you gaped at the man before you. You felt it all rushing back, everything you tried to bottle up. You shook your head at him. “What…?” you breathed out.

Tom frowned and finally looked at you, noticing the way you tried not to cry. “I’m in love with you, Y/N. I always have been,” he confessed, watching the way you stared at him with wild eyes that watered like never before.

You shook your head as your bottom lip trembled and a single tear shed. “You let me think I wasn’t good enough for you,” your voice wavered with your words and Tom blinked back his tears with a sigh.

“You hurt me, Tom. You broke my heart,” your voice raised an octave as you choked out your words, heart thumping in your chest, begging to jump out and into his hands. Tom sniffled. “I should’ve told you, I should’ve fucking told you, love. I’m so sorry,” he cried out.

You shook your head and pulled your hands away from his face, tearing your wrists out of his grip and taking a step back. “You’re sorry? You fucking  _ruined_ me, Tom. Do you not understand how much you fucking hurt me?” you yelled at him, hurt turning into anger.

“And I wish I could fucking take it back, love. I made a mistake, and I regretted it as soon as I told you I didn’t feel the same,” he begged for her to listen, to understand why he did what he did, but he knew his actions were selfish all that time ago.

“Baby, I fucking love you,” Tom cried, taking a step closer to you but you took a step back and shook your head. “I know you still love me,” he whispered, hoping you did still love him and he wasn’t just making a fool of himself.

You scoffed out a laugh and sniffled back a cry. “Of course I still fucking love you, Tommy. I’m  _always_ going to love you,” your voice grew softer with every word as your shoulder slumped. Tom took a step closer to you and held your fingers in his.

“I’m engaged, Tom. It’s too la-”

“Do you love me?” Tom rushed out, not wanting to let you finish your sentence. He couldn’t bear to hear what you were going to say. You huffed. “Yes, I love you,” you spoke gently. Tom intertwined your fingers. “Do you love him?” he almost choked on his own words.

You hesitated for a moment before nodding your head. “Are you  _in_ love with him?” he finally asked, noticing the way you huffed at him. “I don’t know! Loving someone and being  _in_ love with someone are two very different things,” you tried to explain.

Tom nodded softly, gently pulling you closer until your chests were flushed against one another, noses almost touching. “Are you  _in_ love with me?” he breathed, your heart stammering in your chest, and you were sure he could feel it.

You pursed your lips and looked down at your feet, trying not to break, not again. “Are you in love with me, baby?” he whispered, the softness of his sweet voice somewhat soothing your nerves as he rested his forehead against yours and held your cheek in his palm.

You looked back up at him with watering eyes, blinking back tears as you slowly nodded your head. “I’m always going to be in love with you, Tommy,” you cried, lips almost brushing past one another and you had to fight back the urge to kiss him.

“Does he make you happy?” he whispered, bumping your nose softly with his as his thumb soothingly stroked over the skin of your cheek. “He makes me forget,” you whispered back, eyes fluttering closed and Tom pursed his lips, ready to pull away.

“But I don’t wanna forget anymore,” you rushed out, closing the gap between you both as your lips met in a fiery kiss. Your hands tangled in his hair, fingers tugging at his curls as Tom held your face in his palms.

Your lips fit together like two puzzle pieces; like they belonged together. He parted his and welcomed the warmth of your tongue as they danced together, creating a dance that told the story of your love.

“Come back home,” he pleaded against your lips, his words snapping you back into reality and you pulled away, glancing back at the door. “I, I can’t just leave him in there, God, this is so messy,” you huffed, panic quickly seeping through.

Tom pecked your lips and held your waist. “Darling, I have wanted to be with you since we were seventeen. I can’t let you go, not when we’re so close,” he whimpered, eyes frantic as he scanned your face, scared you’d go inside and never come back out.

You nodded and swallowed back the nerves, letting Tom kiss you one more time before you went back into the pub. Leaning against the railing, Tom waited. His heart continued to pound in his chest, breaking into a cold sweat as he counted down the seconds.

One minute passes, then two, then three. Before he knows it, it’s been twenty-five minutes and he thinks he gets the hint. Pursing his lips to hold back his cries, he scuffs his boots along the ground as he turns his back and begins to walk away.

“Thought you couldn’t let me go?” he heard you call out to him as you left the pub. He spun around with hopeful eyes and ran to you, scooping you up and into his arms as he kissed you softly. “I love you,” he mumbled against you, your smile growing just that little more when he put you back to your feet.

When morning rose, Tom groaned out at the sunlight that poured through the windows of his bedroom. His body ached, lips still swollen as he saw his clothes strewn across the floor, memories of your naked body filling his mind from the night before.

Tom turned in the bed to greet you with a kiss but froze when he saw no one there. He sat up quickly, eyeing the room in search of something that belonged to you, but came short. Your clothes were gone.  _You_ were gone.

“No, no, no,” he panicked, jumping from the bed and tugging on the closest pair of boxers he could find. Bolting out of his bedroom, Tom raced down the hallway, breathing frantic as he prayed you’d still be there.

It wasn’t until he neared the kitchen, that he stopped. There you stood, dressed in nothing but a pair of his boxers and his shirt from the night before. You stood by the counter, buttering a slice of toast and his heart soared.

You were here, you didn’t leave.

He stalked toward you, spinning you around as you dropped the knife on the counter. Before you could utter a word, his lips were on yours and his hands held your face. You grinned against the kiss, your own fingers knotting in his wild, brown tendrils and he sighed.

“Tomorrow, you don’t get out of bed until I’m awake, you gave me a bloody heart attack,” his gruff voice spoke and you smiled sheepishly up at him with a quirked brow. “Oh, so I’m staying tonight, too, am I?” you teased, arms now wrapped around his bare torso and he grinned.

“You might as well be my roommate again, but this time, your room is my room… because I’m never letting you go again,” Tom breathed with a loving smile, heart full of love for you as you kissed his soft lips again, getting lost in each other.

Your happy ending was just beginning.


End file.
